Say Ahh!
by zeilfanaat
Summary: An A-Z collection of drabbles and vignettes about doctor Clint Cassidy and the rest of the people at Westbury. Updated whenever I have written the next letter. Each chapter should be self-contained.
1. Chapter 1 - Apple

**Say Ahh**

 _by zeilfanaat_

 **Category:** Humor, Drama  
 **Rating:** G/K  
 **Warning:** None  
 **Disclaimer:** "Doc" is not mine. It is produced by Dave Alan Johnson  & Gary R. Johnson. No infringement intended.  
 **Spoilers:** None (will differ per scene/chapter, so I'll warn you per chapter)  
 **Summary:** DOC Drabbles and Vignettes A-Z (hopefully). Updated whenever I have written the next letter. : )  
 **Archive:** i2eye Fan Forum, fanfiction. net, AO3.  
 **Challenge:** None.  
 **A/N:** Each scene should be self-contained. This is kind of a writing exercise. Just trying to get the creative juices flowing again.  
 **Finished:** November 11, 2016

* * *

 **Apple** (Words: 650)

"Well, that was the last check-up concerning your jaw surgery," Clint said, walking his patient back to the front desk. The woman grinned. "Yes, I'll enjoy being able to bite into an apple again!"

Tippy smiled from behind the front desk, holding up an apple she'd brought as a snack. "Oh, I can imagine! And you know what they say," she added brightly, "An apple a day keeps the doctor away!"

Both patient and doctor chuckled, and the former left with a happy 'bye'. Clint leaned on the desk. "I've also heard it said: "An apple will keep anyone away as long as you throw it hard enough."

Nancy, who'd just come storming out of one of the exam rooms, overheard the comment and muttered, "I'll settle for just keeping Doctor Crane away." Tippy quickly hid a laugh behind her hand, as another person entered the clinic.

"Good morning, Sir, how may I help you?"

"I need a doctor quickly," the man said, rushed, his eyes never quite settling in one place.

Clint stepped forward. "I'm a doctor; is it an emergency?"

The man looked at Clint, who stopped dead in his tracks. If the crazed look in the man's eyes hadn't been enough, the knife in his hands would have been.

"Where's your supply? You got drugs don't you? Give them to me." The knife was waved in Clint's direction. The country doctor held up his hands in a pacifying manner.

"What do you need them for? Maybe I can help."

The man's roaming gaze once more settled on Clint. "You can help me by giving me the stuff!"

"It doesn't quite work like that," Clint said calmly. As long as the guy was focused on him, he wasn't paying attention to other people. Like Nancy, who was uncomfortably close to door and therefore the drug addict, or the elderly man who was sitting in the chair to Clint's left.

"What are you, stupid? I've got a knife! You give me the drugs and I won't kill you!"

Nancy gasped slightly, but the sound was covered by Clint's words. "No matter how much your body is saying that you need the drugs, you don't. How 'bout you put down the knife and we'll figure it out together?"

The words were not getting through; the only thing the man heard was Clint's refusal to give in to his demands. A wild look around him brought Nancy in focus.

"Fine, you take me the drugs instead!" He swung the knife around, intent on getting cooperation from his new victim, when suddenly something hit him in the forehead with enough force to throw him backwards to the floor. Immediately, Clint jumped forward and got hold of the man, forcing him to drop the knife. Nancy quickly moved to kick the knife out of reach. Once Clint had the man immobilized, Nancy turned to Tippy. "Call the police." Tippy nodded, just as another voice was heard.

"I already called them. They're almost here." Doctor Oliver Crane's head appeared from behind the corner, cell phone still held against his ear. "Yes, officer, the perpetrator is under control. You can come in."

Two cops, who'd been just down the street when the alert was dispatched, came in through the door. Taking in the situation, they relieved Clint from his dazed yet struggling burden. Clint stood up and watched the drug addict being taken away. He turned towards the receptionist.

"Thanks, Tippy. Good aim."

"Thank you, doctor Cassidy," the receptionist replied, still slightly shaken. "I guess 'what they say' is true." Nancy sent her a small smile. She stooped down, picked up the apple that lay there, and threw it in the bin. "How about we keep a couple of apples handy?"

Clint grinned. "Good idea. Hey, we might even get the clinic to pay for it, if we put it down as a safety measure."

ON TO B…


	2. Chapter 2 - Band-Aid

**Spoilers:** Slight spoilers for Season 1 episode "Love or Money"  
 **A/N:** This one is _really_ short. I liked the challenge of fitting it into 100 words. Hope it worked. Just don't say I didn't warn you.  
 **Finished:** November 11, 2016

* * *

 **Band-Aid** (Words: 100)

"Please, Clint?!"

"No, I'll just mess it up. Y'all don't need me up there."

"But we do! Jeremy's away, Melvin's sick… Luckily Rose is still here on drums, but she can't sing. And anyway, we need a male voice…"

He sighed. "Oh fine. But y'all had better play songs that I know."

"Yes! Thank you!" Molly threw her arms around her semi-reluctant friend. "You'll be great!"

"Yeah right. I'll never live this down. I'm studying to be a doctor, not a musician."

"Think of this as the embodiment of your chosen profession…"

"What? How?"

"Well, you'll actually _be_ a Band-Aid!"

ON TO C…


	3. Chapter 3 - Chilling

**Chilling**

(Words: 100)

 **Spoilers:** Slight spoilers for Season 1 episode "Love or Money"  
 **A/N:** Another drabble. I promise, they won't all be this short.  
 **Finished:** November 13, 2016

* * *

The clinic seemed deserted. Only the receptionist and a nurse were in the filing area when Oliver checked. Even those incompetent heating repair guys seemed to have disappeared. _Without_ fixing the heating system, he might add. It was still boiling hot in here!

Where _was_ everyone? He'd even checked doctor Cassidy's office.

Suddenly he heard sounds from the conference room. But he was sure there was no meeting!

He opened the door. A waft of cool air greeted him; someone had brought in a couple of fans. Everyone was there.

"Hi doctor Crane!" Nancy greeted him brightly. "We're just chilling!"

* * *

NEXT UP: D…


	4. Chapter 4 - Dishes

**Dishes**

(Words: 607)

 **Spoilers:** Time Flies

 **A/N:** The idea for this one came from the episode's "Dear Doc". I made notes for it at some point…just haven't been able to find them. So, this is all new. Not beta-read, so if you see a mistake, please let me know. Have a blessed 2017 everyone!

 **Finished:** December 28, 2016

* * *

"That was wonderful, Love," Ralph Cassidy said, pushing his chair back from the table. With a glance at the clock he rose. "Unfortunately, I do have to leave now."

"Be careful and have fun." His wife tipped her head back for a goodbye kiss. Ralph happily obliged.

"Will do. You two have fun too. And Clint, be a good boy and help your mom with the dishes, hey Buddy?"

"Da-ad!" Clint complained as his father ruffled his hair. "Can I come with you?" He asked hopefully.

"Sorry, Son, not tonight. It's gonna be way past your bedtime before I'm gonna be back."

"Aw…"

"And those puppy dog eyes don't work no more, so giddy-up and help your Mom out." There was a honk outside. "That'll be Joe. Gotta go. See y'all in the morning."

While his father grabbed his guitar and left, Clint sighed and moodily stared at his empty plate.

"Come on, let's get these dishes done. The sooner we do them, the sooner we can do something fun." His mother stood and started stacking the plates.

Clint sighed again, but did get up and gathered the cutlery. "I don't get it. Dad always says that the cook never cleans… so why do _we_ have to do the dishes?" he complained.

His mother had a twinkle in her eye. "Oh, are you offering to do the dishes by yourself?"

Wide-eyed, Clint looked up and vigorously shook his head. "No! I mean, will you help me, Mom, please?"

"Of course, I will, Sweetheart."

"I just meant… Dad doesn't cook. But he almost never does the dishes."

"That's 'cause your Dad plays in the band and has to leave early, Honey, you know that."

"I know," Clint sighed. He put the cutlery in the sink and went to get the glasses while his mother started rinsing the plates.

They were approaching the end of the dishes when Clint, who had been very thoughtful while he was drying off, spoke up again.

"Mom?"

"Yes, Clint?"

"When I grow up I wanna be in a band too," he said this with a decisive tone.

His mother's eyes started twinkling. "That so…? And why is that?"

Clint grinned up at his mother. "Then I'll never have to do the dishes either."

His mother laughed. "Oh, but then you'll miss out on so much fun!"

He wrinkled his nose. "No way! What fun?"

"Oh you know," his mother started, watching as Clint put down the last dried off plate. "Things like this."

"Huh?" Clint looked up and was met with suds on his nose. "Mo-om!" he complained half-heartedly. A gleam in his eyes betrayed him though, and his mother jumped just out of reach when Clint grabbed a big handful of soapy bubbles. She ran around the table and waited for Clint to decide on a direction. Clint made a faint towards the right but then went left. His mother fell for the trick, but recovered quickly and ducked out of the way. Not fast enough though. In the end they both had laughing faces covered of suds. A towel took care of that, and they finished putting away the dry dishes.

Afterwards, they sat down on the porch with some lemonade, watching the sunset.

"So, still wanna be in a band?"

"Yes!" Clint declared emphatically, looking sideways to gauge his mother's response. At her raised eyebrows, he giggled. Then he hugged her. "But I guess till then doing the dishes ain't all bad. As long as I'm doing them with you." His beaming smile made his mother's heart melt. She hugged him just a little closer. How she loved her boys.

* * *

 **A/N:** The sentence from the episode that inspired it was: _"Hey Dottie, It's times like these I get to wishing I could just drop by and sit a spell, maybe help you with the dishes after supper, like I used to do with my mom, and just like I did with you after you took me in when I was a kid."_

NEXT UP: E


	5. Chapter 5 - Expectations

**Expectations**

(Words: 857)

 **Spoilers:** None really.

 **A/N:** Post-finale, in a way.

 **Finished:** 12th of May, 2017

* * *

Over the years, he'd been called by many names. One of them, obviously, was his given name. The title 'Doc' came with his profession. But 'Dad'… for a long time, he'd known that 'Dad' would never be one of his titles.

Sure, a long time ago, when he hadn't even met his wife yet… Back then he'd thought he'd grow up, have a career, a house, a family, which included a wife and a child or two. As time went by, his dreams became reality. He'd gotten a career; he had met a beautiful woman, and they had married and had eventually bought a house… but a child never came.

At first they hadn't worried too much. It would happen in God's time. But months became years. A silent suspicion had placed its ugly claws in their hearts and minds. They went to see a specialist. The news was devastating. That perfect picture as they had always imagined it, as they had taken for granted, would never come true.

The worst was seeing his wife's dreams crushed. She had always wanted children; longed for them. And now…

They had had to re-evaluate. Give up their plans, their dreams. No, not give up… _give_ … give to God. The subtle difference might as well have been non-existent for all the difference it made. They had knelt down on their knees, and had given their dreams of children to God. It had felt like giving up. It had hurt like giving up. But as subtle as the difference had appeared at the beginning, the effect was vastly different. The difference between 'up' and 'to' turned out to be peace.

Giving up implied resignation, which could so easily lead to resentment and embitterment. Giving up implied there was no place in life for these longings, for these dreams. It implied the dreams were wrong.

Giving it to God meant quite the opposite; it allowed them to give these dreams a place, where they could acknowledge their existence, but not be dragged down by them.

Oh, they had still cried over dreams unmet. The longing did not magically disappear from one day to the other. There were doubts and questions. Why put this longing in their hearts if it was not meant to be? It almost felt cruel.

But they knew one thing: God was not a cruel God. God always had His reasons. Sometimes, they understood, some they thought they understood, some they refused to understand, and others they simply could not understand. But above all, they knew, God's reasons were always good!

So, they gave it all to God; their dreams, their questions, their hurts, and their doubts. Convinced that, if God did not think their life needed a child, it was good.

The dreams were not wrong. Their visions and expectations of them had just shaped them into a mould that turned out to be the wrong fit for their life.

They received new dreams. The love between them was stronger; it was more than sufficient: it was fulfilling. Not their plans, but God's plans.

This was how he'd come to know, 'Dad' would never be one of his titles.

And then they suddenly had a ten-year-old boy to take care of. In the midst of the tragedy surrounding the events that led up to Clint coming to live with them, they never stopped to think about it.

Lives, plans, dreams – all turned upside down once again.

It was only much later, when that same boy, convinced he was a burden because they had apparently not wanted children of their own, cried out for a father and a mother who'd both passed away, that they understood.

The longing for children, the pain and dreams they had given to God, had been moulded by their Creator to be perfectly Clint-shaped. Oh, they knew they were not his biological parents, nor did they attempt or even want to take that place. But they could not have loved Clint more had he been their own son.

In all those years where they had thought 'children' simply did not fit into God's plans for their life, God had been working on them, working on that desire they had placed in God's hands. A ten-year-old Clint Cassidy was the result.

Harley Johanson had had many titles over the years: his given name, Doctor, sometimes simply 'Doc'. 'Dad' had never, and would never be among them, even after taking Clint in to become part of their family. And that was fine. Clint's 'Doc' was as loving as any 'Dad' would have been.

Harley knew that Clint loved them like parents. He might not have said it as explicitly as such, but he knew.

Still, in all those years, despite sometimes teasing Clint about it, there was one title he'd never even considered. So, he was completely floored when he heard the words:

"Hey Doc, guess what. You're going to be a Granddad."

Completely unexpected, a small extension piece of that longing they had once given to God, now fell into place. Harley, Doctor Johanson, Doc, Granddad. It was beyond expectations.

God's plans truly were best.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm aware this was posted on Mother's Day, even though perhaps it should have been on Father's Day. Still, I thought it was still appropriate. Hope you have (had) a happy Mother's Day!

NEXT UP: F


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